After seven months have passed without a culprit in her daughter's murder case, Mildred Hayes makes a bold move, painting three signs leading into her town with a controversial message directed at Bill Willoughby, the town's revered chief of police. When his second-in-command Officer Jason Dixon, an immature mother's boy with a penchant for violence, gets involved, the battle between Mildred and Ebbing's law enforcement is only exacerbated.
A corrosively humorous drama of festering injustice, Shakespearean rage, grave reckoning and imperfect redemption, which unfolds with the epic dimensions of a classic Western showdown.
It s far from a masterpiece, yet it holds you, it adds up, and it s something to see.
Three Billboards plays like a country ballad that s full of improvised riffs on old themes: Its verses head off in different directions, some violent and swearing, others reflective or funny.
McDonagh s most satisfying movie, a very juicy and resonant treat.
Though "Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri" pursues a number of narrative strains, it s really about lost characters doing whatever they can to scheme their way out of a rut.
There are times in Three Billboards when the themes and events are so dark and ugly that the humor is stopped dead in tracks and the laughs get caught in your throat.
McDormand is righteous fury personified, and her performance-the best she s delivered since Fargo, maybe-is heartbreaking, but also wildly, profanely entertaining.
This rural drama is the best yet from playwright and filmmaker Martin McDonagh, and one of Frances McDormand s greatest performances.
One of those truly rare films that feels both profound and grounded; inspirational without ever manipulatively trying to be so.
Not since "Fargo" (1996) has [McDormand] found a character of such fibre. She doesn t pitch it to us, still less try to make it palatable; she seems to state Mildred, presenting her as a given fact, like someone unrolling a map.